


Shining Ambitions veiled in Dust - A background collection

by HisGlasses



Series: The World of "Shining Ambitions veiled in Dust" [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, bartender!Ignis, introduction, policeofficer!Gladio, richboy!Noctis, setting the scene, sort of steampunk-ish around 1900 AU, streetkid!Prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisGlasses/pseuds/HisGlasses
Summary: Sort of setting the scene and frames for possible stories in a steampunkish AU for the Chocobros. Bartender Ignis, streetkid Prompto, Chief of Police Gladio and Noctis, heir to the perfume market leader brand "Lucis".Maybe this inspires people to write.





	1. The bartender

**Author's Note:**

> This is not beta-ed, so any mistakes you find are all mine and my own.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis' introduction.

_Why is it that those glasses seem getting duller by minute even though I’m constantly polishing them? Must have to do something with the increasing pollution in this city. No wonder with all those automoblies popping up like mushrooms everywhere._

He set the cup he had peen polishing on his ebony counter and took his spectacles off with a soundless sigh. Carefully he pulled on the bit of lavender coloured tissue peeking out from his vest pocket and gently wiped his corrective lenses. The frame was a hand-me-down of his uncle he got at his coming of age celebration. It was fine metal covered with a thin layer of gold. The ear pieces were wooden – good and strong wood – and sprinkled with fine golden particles. Ignis was very fond of his spectacles. They gave him a notion of home.

Thinking of home, he couldn’t help but smiling fondly when he put his frames back onto the slender bridge of his nose. His uncle once said it would compliment his sandy brown hair. Had it already been four years? Four years since he left the small cottage where he lived together with his uncle? The picture of his shocked face was still very vivid behind Ignis‘ lids. He had begged him not to go, trying to reason him into staying at the tenebraean countryside with him and running his small charburner business. But Ignis had made up his mind. With strong, almost piercing emerald eyes he told him, that he wanted to chase after his dream: to become a well known barista in the big city of Insomnia. „You are as stubborn as your mother was“, he snapped at him. Then in a softer tone he added: „But you are not less radiant.“  
A tear fell from his eye that moment he remembered his sister, going out to see the world with her husband. The big city Insomnia had been their destination. They had lived many happy days and been blessed with a baby boy just few years later. Until the sickness came. A heavy lung disease that plagued the whole family. The doctor had told them it was already to late, their bodies already infested with The Shadow. But the child might still have a chance if it could grow up in surroundings with less polluted air. They didn’t hesitate a moment. And this is how Ignis had come to him. And now he was losing him to the same city that had taken his precious little sister. But seeing the resolution sparking from Ignis‘ eyes, he knew that he could never hold him back. So he let him go.

 

_This is not the time for sentimentalities. I have preparations to be taken care of._

 

Returning the little tissue with a quick movement of his right hand, Ignis took the cup in his left and put it back on its shelf. Then he sent a glance through his accommodations. He was still not quite there yet – a bar he owned, yes, but the good coffee for truly being a barista and not only a bartender was still not affordable – but at least he had built up his own little existence.

  
He was the proud owner of a tiny bar, clad in ebony furnishings, beige walls and short lavender coloured curtains at the window (in fact the tissue he used to clean his glasses _was_ a leftover of his curtains). There was just enough space to fit about ten to fifteen people (depending their size) and a big counter you could see from the side when walking in. This counter was not only the bar but also the kitchen at the same time – a fact which Ignis liked a lot. This way his customers could pass their waiting time by watching him prepare their just ordered meals or beverages. It was not like he was showing off but he sort of liked presenting his skills. Everything to be done in this bar was done by him. He sometimes wished for a helping hand but simply could not afford it. Not yet. Also completing all the tasks by himself filled him with pride, even though it could be really straining.

Upstairs he had his private living space – a small bathroom with sink, toilet and shower, a larger room in which he had placed his bed, his desk, a wardrobe and his books, and a smaller one which was equipped with another single bed. Ignis secretly wanted to make a guestroom out of the latter but still didn’t make this intention public. It would provide financial ressources, yes but somehow he still didn’t feel comfortable knowing, that a stranger slept under the same roof. He might want to think about that thoroughly. But not now.

Ignis carefully placed the cutlery on each place, then opened the door with a subtle „ching“ of the little chime he had installed to the frame and flipped around the plate dangling from the door – now reading „we’re open“. He stood there for a short while, just looking up into the sky, framed by the tall city buildings. The sun was setting already and tinted the sky in hues of orange, blue and purple. At least this is how it might have looked if not for some dark greyish veils, marring parts of the view. The first street lanterns were being lit to announce another lively evening, when Ignis finally retreated behind his counter, eager awaiting tonight’s customers. He was open for lunchtime too though hardly anyone walked by a bar at noon, even if the food was remarkably good.  
Maybe Mister Amicitia, Chief of the Insomnian Police would come around in the late hours for a drink, talking about how he let another thief escape in the market place again just out of goodwill. He knows if the culprit in question is a good or a bad one, at least that’s what he pretents to.

_I wonder if he and Prompto ever crossed each other’s path._

Prompto was a guy from the orphanage who still lived there now but had to come up with food by himself, so he often came by at the end of the night to get some of the leftovers Ignis always kept for him in a small tin box. In fact he had two, so Prompto would bring his emptied, cleaned one back to switch it with the full version. He truly was a good boy, some years younger than Ignis himself probably. He gained his money as storyteller in Insomnian streets – with a real talent for storytelling as Ignis found – so he had pretty much information on the latest gossip around town, which was a nice way of keeping track and being informed on what was going on in the city. Apart from his occasional stealing trips and sometimes being too talkative, Ignis liked talking to him.

And then, some months from now a mysterious boy – around the same age as Prompto but clearly richer than anyone Ignis knew – frequently took his seat in his bar. Always at the same table with the bigger window. He would sit there for hours, eating nothing but either a set of porc cutlet sandwiches or the tenebraean pastry set and staring outside. Sometimes he seemed to be watching Ignis – that much he already recognised – but then again it seemed as if he had completely lost his interest in his surroundings, just starting blankly into nothingness. This was the time Ignis took his turn observing him. He had silky black hair, deep blue eyes and was often clad in fine clothing, mostly in black colour. On the lapel of his vest, he often wore a pin, resembling the Sylleblossom – a blue flower with a unique scent. Sometimes he took it off when entering the bar as if he wanted to forget that it was there. As Prompto had told him, this raven boy was none other than the young Master Noctis Caelum, son of Master Regis Caelum who was the most famous man in the perfumery business. The whole high society was craving perfumes of his brand „Lucis“, which indeed was represented by a stylised Sylleblossom on the lable of every flacon.

 

_Why would such noblesse possibly start frequenting an insignificant bar like mine?_

This was a question Ignis didn’t know the answer to. Not yet. But who knows, what the future holds for us?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. You really read this till here? First of all: thank you very much for your interest!! I hope you liked the basic idea and got an impression of the world that started unfolding in my head.
> 
> Then: Sorry for my writing. This is my first story writing in English ever. I'm a terrible writer and I'm a zero in setting up plots, story pace etc. but I had to get this out of my head. At least this piece of it, for now.  
> I don't know if there will be any snippets, scenes or other stuff following up but for the moment I don't feel up to it.
> 
> You have an idea for a plot developing in this setting? Don't hesitate, just do it! Please be sure to credit me for the basic idea though, because after all it's still my baby. It's very very tiny and small, but still :3 (And I want to read what you make out of it :3c
> 
> Thanks again for reading!!


	2. The orphan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto's introduction.

„You can spend your nights here if you like. At least until you can make your proper living. But be sure to leave the bed to the children who need it. And you will have to get some food by yourself. We can’t be feeding you here forever either. And be sure to take your cleaning shifts of the room, hear me?“  
Mrs. Elshett really cared about her children, even after they had grown up. And he was greatful for it every time he came home to sleep with a roof over his head. It was his safe haven he could always come back to, no matter what. Lately the numbers of abandonned children had increased so the orphanage was packed as it had never been before, but he could find himself at ease. Apart from the spiders. And bugs. And sometimes lice that were very hard to get rid off, once they had caught onto you. He hated them. But those aside it was good.

At the moment Prompto was sharing a room with a boy around seven years old. Mrs. Elshett – or Monica, as he preferred to call her – had told him, that his name was Talcott. Apparently he had lived together with his grandfather who suddenly passed away. The Shadow had taken over him, as far as the doctors had said. Prompto liked that little boy. He seemed to be collecting catuar figurines, as three of them were on display on the window sill.  
At night, Talcott would sometimes pull on Prompto’s shirt, sniffling as if he had caught a cold. But he was crying bitter tears over his late grandfather, feeling all alone and miserable. It’s something Prompto had been going through himself, not even knowing who his real parents were at all. He understood him. The first time it happened, Prompto had stood up from the wooden floor – the place he usually slept – put a hand on Talcott’s shoulder and asked him, if he needed the company of his big brother. The younger one had lunged towards the scrawny body of the blonde and sobbed muffled cries into his shirt. Only as Promto had lain down with him in the tiny bed (Prompto’s ankles were dangling freely over the end) Talcott had managed to calm down again and fall into a peaceful sleep. This had become some sort of ritual when Talcott experienced some moments of loneliness.

That way, Prompto could even make himself useful at the orphanage. Well, he was staying there for free after all. Still he wanted to stand on his own two feet someday. He just had to find a good employment so he could not only live off his salary by himself but maybe even donate part of his money to Monica and her kids. He definitely would. The problem was the employment itself.

 

It is not like he wasn’t skilled. At the age of five he had already helped out the workers in the coal mines, because adults couldn’t reach as far into the narrow tunnels as a child could. When he grew older though he had to give up this sort of work – growing older also means growing in height after all. Then he had turned to be an apprentice of a locksmith but this didn’t last too long. Prompto had always had a knack for mechanical constructions, so instead of putting together the locks as he was asked to, he started trying out the fastest ways to put them apart, slowing down the business significantly. Afterwards he had tried his luck as apprentice of a watchmaker. Putting all those tiny screws, springs and cogwheels together was sort of tricky and challenging, so he had been sticking around for two years. He had been fascinated about the mechanisms he put together but somehow this didn’t feel right to him and he quit at the age of 17.

One day when he had walked around the streets, desperately looking for work that would make him able to live _and_ passionate enough to dive in, he crossed street artists of all sorts on the marketplace. Jugglers, magicians, acrobats, it was a real joy to look at. Watching them Prompto remembered that Monica once had asked him to read out a good night story to the younger children in the orphanage. Since then it had been his daily task, as nobody would want to listen to her anymore. „You seem to be very talented. Could I maybe leave this to you, as long as you stay?“, she had asked him. And he still did. This is when he decided to try his luck as storyteller. Nothing fancy, just standing in the street, telling all kinds of different stories to the people walking by. Some of them occasionally left some coins they had in their pockets, and this was more more less the way he had been living the last three years. Not every day was a good day – financially talking of course – and this is when he went on, what he called „thievish quests“. It was his way to twist his act of stealing into something positive and adventurous. If he stole anything though, he made sure to not snatch away masses. Just the right amount to get him through another day. If he took an apple from one of the farmers, he would talk well of his products in return at another place so that maybe new customers would shop their fruits at his stand. This was his only means to pay back what he stole for the moment.

Still he knew, that this was not going to last forever. Prompto wanted to work, but not anything just coming along the way. It had to be something he could be passionate about. Or something adventurous. Or maybe both! And when he had enough money, he would buy one of those portable machines for making photographs. He was always walking by the shop that sold them, when going to the market. Prompto also had thought about stealing one, but then again this would be too much of damage so he let go of this thought. One day he would buy one from his own money. This was his next goal.

 

It had been one of those „quest“ days on the market when he had been caught stealing some potatoes by sharp green eyes. The young man had stood directly next to him. He couldn’t possibly have seen what he did, yet he had. Not even the big (and a little hairy) police officer had ever spotted him. The man with the well groomed sandy brown hair had shown quite a harsh expression on his face, his eyes almost piercing through Prompto‘s skull. The blonde had felt the urge to run, as fast as his scrawny legs might take him, but somehow he had just been frozen in place. Even before he could process what happened, the spectacled man finished his errands and pulled him along with a firm grip on Prompto’s shoulder. Almost afraid he would end up at the next police station, his mouth fell open in astonishment, as the man opened a door and asked him to enter. The man, who had already walked into the little bar and swiftly put down his groceries on the ebony counter turned his head towards the entrance, where Prompto had still stood frozen, a potato still in his right hand.

„Did I express myself incomprehensibly? I asked you to enter. But please be so kind to shut the door behind you, will you?“ Tenebraean accent. This man wasn’t from here. Still confused Prompto had stepped into the room and sat down in front of the counter after closing the door. „So, I assume you are not new to stealing? Your hands seemed quite knowing.“ He talked to him over the borders of his round glasses, while his hands were busy with cutting up some vegetables behind the counter.  
Prompto had shifted nervously on his stool. „Well, er-- I-- See, I really don’t do this every day? Okay, sometimes. Actually quite a lot lately. But I’m making up for it! I swear! And I never take much, only as far as to get something in my stomach for the day. Really!“ The man in front of him had smiled amused. „Is that so?“, he had asked in a cocky tone before he lowered his eyes on whatever he had been chopping. Not really knowing how to deal with this awfully weird situation, Prompto had just blurted out what came to his mind. „So, you’re not going to take me to the police? I mean, wouldn’t that be the obvious thing to do? Not that I’m particularly sad about that, but...“ The man had snickered as a sizzling noise came from behind the counter. „Well yes it probably would be. But I’d rather not be that obvious kind of person I guess.“ He flipped something out of a frying pan onto a small plate and placed it on the counter after he added something to it. „Let’s say, I cannot overlook it when someone is in need?“  
Prompto’s eyes had widened in amazement as he saw a fresh omelette with a small selection of carrots, beans and lettuce combined to a fresh salad. „Is this-- I mean, really?!“ He had stared at the man in disbelief, his grumbling stomach giving away how hungry he really was. He had been handed a set of cutlery with a short „of course“, when his face finally lit up. „Wow, that’s amazing! Thanks mister... er..“ The man chuckled. „Call me Ignis, if you will?“ Prompto had nodded enthusiastically. „Thanks Ignis!“

The food was delicious. Still unable to believe that a stranger, who had also caught him stealing had offered him food. _For free_. „I will make up for this, I promise! I will tell the people around town how great your cooking is, Ignis!“, Prompto had babbled while he was wiping his mouth with the backside of his hand. „And then you’ll be famous! You’ll have a huge shop and...!“ „Now now, no need to exaggerate here. I’m pleased if you liked it“, Ignis had returned. „I am afraid I do not have that much to give either, so this meal here must remain an exception, you hear me? Be sure to get your supplies in a decent way from now on.“ Prompto had grinned widely. „Yes sir! Thanks man, you really helped me a lot today.“  
Ignis had taken off his glasses and started cleaning them with the little purple (or was it violet?) tissue from his pocket. „Although I might be able to save some of my customers‘ leftovers, if you don’t mind?“ The blonde’s eyes had been sparkling. What a miracle had happened today. „Oh. em. gee. This is hilarious!! Yeah, sure!!“ „Then be sure to come and get them around the break of dawn? The nights in a bar a long, as you might know“, Ignis had responded while putting on his glasses again. „Now shoo. Go and find yourself some place to work.“ „Yessir! Will do sir!“ In a whirl Prompto had left the bar, turning around once more to wave at Ignis who had started polishing one of his cups.

 

The lanterns already started flickering on as Prompto looked what to find in his flat cap. „Haah, not quite the good day huh?“, he sighed, taking out the few coins. With both hands shoved into his pockets he walked down the street, casually greeting the big police officer patroling when walking by. He wondered what leftovers there might be for next day. Thinking about that he realised, that he had to get up early to pick them up, at around three or four in the morning, so he hastened his pace.  
Before heading over to the orphanage to get some rest, he stopped by the machinery shop and glanced once more at the portable photographomat. „One day baby, you’ll be mine!“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... this is getting out of hand |'D
> 
> I won't keep up this pace, but I probably will at least introduce the other two chocobros in the next weeks.  
> You can check out how I imagine the boys to look like on my [tumblr](https://his-pair-of-spare-glasses.tumblr.com/post/164928779836/so-yes-my-brain-decided-not-to-stop-and-i) if you like.
> 
> This Introduction indeed does smell a lot like Promptnis, but well... The concept of this AU is made the way you can ship all of it, the ways you like best (though I must say my heart belongs to Ignoct), so I guess it should be okay.
> 
> Anyways, great you read through the blurry thoughts I'm trying to put into words. Thank you very much!  
> Just feel free to let me know, what you think ^^


	3. The guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio's introduction.

42, 43, 44, ...

„You have to stand your ground and never lose your focus.“

45, 46, ...

„Remember to never back down and fight for what is right.“

47, 48, ...

„The people depend on you, be sure you keep them safe.“

49, 50.

With a groan Gladio lifted his head, standing up from his pose on all fours. Once risen to full height he stretched his arms and back and wiped his forehead with the towel he had placed on the rest of a kitchen chair. Nothing better to get a clear head and stay focused through the day than 50 push-ups in the morning. He had to admit that he were not so much into single handed ones. Instead of doing 50 for each arm, he just might want to stay at regular 50 on both arms. At least before breakfast.  
It was just one of the old habits from the academy Gladio had maintained in his everyday life. He remembered almost too clearly how they had gotten up at four in the morning, all sleep deprived and hungry but the Marshal had insisted on that early training. Each push-up was a secret promise you vowed to keep, each strain in your body a sign of getting stronger. And still today the Marshal’s words were ringing in his ears when he renewed those promises every morning. It was not that tough anymore though. He was only standing up at half past six now. And of course continuing training had paid off.

_That man really got the shit out of us, huh._

Gladio swung the towel over his shoulder with a slap and pulled up one corner of his mouth into a grin, as he was thinking of his advisor in the academy. It’s a pity he had had to retire from service, switching on to training and testing the new applicants for the insomnian police. That arm injury had him really bad. Only rumors were known about what really had happened to Cor Leonis but Gladio didn’t care about the gossip. He wanted to ask himself to tell him the truth about the incident. One day. When he was strong enough.  
Actually he was on his best way. Being in training for four years he had graduated the academy with flying colours, getting him a job right in the busiest spot of Insomnia. The criminals tended to be rather quiet lately, and Gladio wondered if they were cooking something up. But as long as they didn’t he was planning on enjoying the carefree days. It had been one year since he had been promoted to be Chief, at least in his district. But who could say they have made it that far at only the age of 23? One of his co-workers had made fun out of it to literally kick his ass every time he had made a mistake. Not that it happened that often. She called it „privilege of age“.  
_Wow, that missy is more of a grown man than those in the academy._  
That was what he had thought, when he first had met his vice Aranea Highwind. He liked her style, just frankly blurting out what she was thinking, not hiding behind any false manners. It was a great time, even though it was only work.  
  


Gladio took a quick shower and while running around searching for where he had put his trunks („Oh, lost your jacket?“, as Aranea would have said flatly), his eyes locked on the kitchen counter. There was a plate with two stacked sandwiches on it. Next to it lay a note. The big man snorted, a big grin on his face as he put on a pair of trunks he had found neatly folded in the pile of fresh laundry.

 

_Hey Gladdy,_  
_thanks again for buying the sewing kit on the market yesterday! This way I could still fix my uniform this morning before leaving (I really have to pay attention not to catch on nails and stuff...) I actually wanted to thank you personally but I was so exhausted, I fell asleep before you were even home. I hope you haven’t been out drinking all night?_  
_In return, I made sure you get a proper breakfast before heading off to work. Isn’t that nice~? Please try to get something healthy into you from time to time? All that canned stuff will make you sick sooner or later._  
_Well then, I gotta be going. Have a nice day~ I hope we can have dinner some time again soon. Maybe when it gets less busy over here._  
_Laters~_  
_Iris_

 

„Yeah, right. Make sure _you_ get to eat properly with all the running you do“, Gladio mumbled fondly, put the memo aside and took a bite of the sandwich. He had been living with his sister as soon as she got taken in as apprentice in the Leville. While she was busying herself with learning all the important stuff about the business of a hotel, she had to climb the latter from the bottom. First doing dishes, then cleaning the rooms, then serving food in the attatched restaurant. She couldn’t wait for her turn standing behind the counter as reception lady. At least this would slow down her stressful working day. It was by far a less ideal employment than she had thought but she still wanted to pull through the apprentice. She could still look for something different afterwards. On weekends she was doing a part time job as maid in a larger mansion of some nobleman, as far as Gladio knew. Still the money she earned was not enough to let her rent an own apartment.

Gladio hadn’t minded them living together. On the contrary. He was a very proud big brother and would do anything to help his little sister. In fact he liked the time they spent together pretty much. It just felt like home. Those last months though they had barely been able to see each other. Iris started her day earlier than him and even if his work didn’t involve much gangster hunting, the paperwork was piling on his desk. And he hated paperwork. Which is why he often went on patrol himself – including Aranea’s shifts – leaving his slightly salty vice alone with all the documents. „You know I’m not going to do this all on my own, hear me?!“, she used to yell after him as he would walk out the door. He would only reply by raising a hand, knowing she was right.

„Well then, time to go.“  
Gladio packed the second sandwich into a little tin box and got dressed. „Damn, is that uniform getting tighter or what?“, he grunted as he noticed that the sleeves were closing in his arms tighter than just weeks ago. „Might have to have Iris fix this for me.“ He ran his fingers through his long hair and tied it up into a ponytail. Work was work after all and it had to look like it.

 

It was just a usual working day. Paperwork. Tons of it.  
Gladio sighed in frustration as he had to look up for the third time if the culprit on the documents had been found guilty or not, which produced a cocky smirk on his vice’s face. Aranea could see very well how he had rolled his eyes, before standing up and taking the hat going with his uniform, as if to go out for a walk. „Amicitia, you’re slacking off. Have you become an old man yet?“ Gladio snorted. „As if you were the one to talk, missy. I’m off for patrol.“ Aranea demonstratively put her elbow on her desk and propped up her head on her wrist. „Pulling an all nighter then again, huh?“ She smirked. „Make sure you don’t pester that bartender too much, will you? That cutie really doesn’t deserve something like that.“ „Huh. Keep your desk clean, Highwind.“

It was evening already and Gladio could spot the people returning to their homes from a long exhausting day of work. There were upper class men too, strolling nonchalantly through the street, probably thinking about what they might want to have for dinner. Same went for the beggars and poor souls living in the streets, though their meal was definitely bound to be something different. Gladio had memorised their faces and secretly had started to check if they were doing alright. Still alive. Not going on a caper with anyone.  
He crossed a scrawny young man, not wearing shoes as he noticed, who greeted him happily. Gladio produced a smile and greeted back with one hand, before continuing his stroll. Patrol. Whatever.  
_That kid is lurking around here almost everytime I am on my watch. I know you’re picking stuff on the market. Looks like you might be in need of a good lesson some time._  
But not today. He seemed in a good mood, besides Gladio didn’t have any evidence for anything right now. The thought of catching that little street cat one day though kept jumping up and down in his mind, like some funny game to look forward to.

 

When stepping back into the office, Aranea had already left – her desk as clean as could be. On his own desk in contrary, the papertower seemed to grow taller by minute. On his chair there was a little note in razor sharp letters.

_Keep your desk clean._

Gladio snorted. „Gotcha.“  
Still he was planning to go to pay the Libra Elementia a visit later. He knew it was open until four in the morning although he had a notion, that he really might want to leave earlier today. It was a nice place, not overly crowded and the food and beer were good. Also the bartender would listen to what he was talking about – unlike certain co-workers – which made him his only partner for conversation throughout the whole day. It was nice talking to him.

 _Gotta have to take Iris there some day_ he thought, as he gave up on the last bit of documents and took his hat from the coat rack to head over for a drink. Maybe two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I am so sorry D:  
> I somehow didn't quite grasp how to write Gladio well in character. This is my very first time trying to get into his character, but I fear this doesn't do him justice yet. I'll be doing my best to improve, I promise. (Be nice, Gladdy-fans? x'3)
> 
> Actually I started plotting out a whole story for this setting. Like a real story. With plot. (end me.)  
> I.. hope I can produce something enjoyable x'3


	4. The heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis' introduction.

There had not been one single day in Noctis‘ life that hadn’t been planned out in advance, as long as he could remember.

He had entered school at the age of six and graduated at the age of 18. The subjects he liked had been marked with success, the ones he hadn’t cared about had been mediocre. Yet to ensure a stable education process, private lessons had been on daily schedule – the majority of them the subjects that had to be ameliorated of course. But not only that. A well raised child should not only succeed at school and other intellectual activities. It had to be capable of showing a flawless conduct. It was expected of him. It was no surprise that Regis had had a tough time, getting his son into shape. At least he had managed for Noctis to not be openly annoyed and particularly exasperated when it came to talk to people. The staying quiet and casual nodding was a better coping mechanism by far.

Apart from schooling and training in manners his father had insisted of giving him the possibility to unfold in the arts, as it had been the will of his late wife. From the day he entered school, he had been proposed various activities in this field that would nurture his mind. Calligraphy, wood crafts, sewing, pottery – there was nothing left out. Regis had wanted him to have the opportunity to try all of it and decide (the only time Noctis really had been able to decide on things), which one to turn to.  
For some years Noctis had been very committed to the art of sword fighting and playing the violin, yet nothing had ever fascinated him more than painting and drawing. It had been a way to visualise his thoughts, his own world he always saw before his eyes and dreamt of at night, when the chains of the everyday life came loose with a clank, just for a few hours. A world of magic, fantastic creatures and stunning views – a total contrast to the appointments, social events and work on a daily basis.

Being absorbed in drawing, Noctis had enrolled at a famous University in Accordo for two years, studying art and design. It had not quite been what he had imagined, but at least it had gotten him some decent practise and understanding, how various techniques were working.  
After graduation he had been directly taken into the company of his father. The company he was the heir to. No worries about finding a job there either – everything was secure, everything was set out.

It felt like a cage to him.

Noctis knew, that his father was a gentle man. That he only wanted the best for his son and that he tried with all his might. Being robbed of his wife and immersed in his huge business and social relations though, he only had little room to show it. Little time to give.

This was what it was like, being the first-born (and only) son to Regis Caelum, head to Lucis Scents, the most wanted house of perfume in all the noble society.

Noctis was working in the design and marketing department of the company half of the day. His sense for elegance and beauty had helped develop an exquisite design for their products, giving them an even more exquisite appearance. The other half of the day was usually filled with attending social events, conferences and balls with his father, talking to people he did not know and did not care about. Listening to their pointless gibberish and flattery, or rather let it pass through his ears unheard, faking interest when actually being absentminded. Wearing fancy clothing every day, a brooch in shape of the Sylleblossom – the main ingredient for all of the scents and symbol to the company – on the lapel of his vest, even though he preferred to dress more casually.

Everybody dallied over him but nobody cared. Everybody talked to him but nobody listened. Everybody praised his existence but nobody actually knew him.  
It felt like torture.

Yet not all of it.  
As a child Noctis had enjoyed the frequent trips to the tenebraean fields, where they harvested the Sylleblossoms for production. The picture of the vast and open fields of blue and their mesmerising scent had stuck to his soul and had given him something close to comfort. The days there had been full of leisure, sweets and fun.  
He enjoyed thinking about forms and shapes of new flacons, fonts for the labels or design of photographic ads, yet satisfaction only came when drawing out of boundaries, things he saw and felt.  
He enjoyed seeing his father happy and proud about his son’s accomplishments, even though lately he rather appeared tired and exhausted to him. Life on the fast lane had left his marks, aged him by years.

But somehow this alone was not enough.

Noctis often thought about leaving this life behind and starting anew, looking for his own goals, dreams and happiness. Throwing away his family name, just being Noctis, a white canvas with a yet ungraspable destiny.

Looking for freedom.

Yet he needed to have the back of his father. To be his strength when he needed it. To prepare himself for taking over the business one day. To continue that life in the high-society of Insomnia he disliked so much.

As pondering about this didn’t lead anywhere, Noctis was in an ongoing state of apathy, letting things just happen as they came. He had lost the drive to change something about his life. He had just resignedly accepted the ever constant flow of events, enduring its procedures.

 

It was one day, when he had an appointment cancelled and consequently half a day off that the black haired young man took a stroll through the older and a bit lower parts of the city. Noctis always had wanted to wander about there, since he had passed it on his way to another banquet. He liked it there because everything felt so simple and not complicated at all. No etiquette to stick to, no need to constantly be focused and seem pleased, keeping up appearances. Just taking a stroll through the streets, watching the people walking by and imagining what their daily routine looked like or what their aspirations in life might be. Those thoughts gave him little drops of bliss, a little colour in these days of black.  
Whereas he would be recognised and greeted in the heart of Insomnia, most of the people here didn’t have the time and means to care about something like perfume and fanciness and just didn’t mind him. Of course they would treat him with respect as – undeniable by his clothing – he was a young man of noblesse, but no more than that. He felt at ease, and at least a bit less bound to reality as he was at home.

It was at the entrance to the local market place, when a police man called out to him. He was tall with strong shoulders that were straining the sleeves of his bluish uniform, and quite a lot of hair, as Noctis remarked.  
„Hey, sir. You sure you’re not lost here? Where were you headed?“ Noctis brought his right hand up to his neck and with a slightly nervous and uncomfortable feeling he replied: „Er, no? I—I was just passing my time wandering around the city a bit.“ The officer raised an eyebrow, then he shrugged. „Well, don’t wander off your path too much sir. And keep an eye on your belongings. Not all folks out here are nice, hear me?“ Noctis managed a weirdly crooked smile. „Yeah, I—will keep that in mind. Thanks.“

Strolling around the place he had a look at the different booths being set up for the market. Fresh fruit and vegetables (even though he liked to skip on the latter ones), handmade jewellery and charms, vividly coloured spices, books of all sorts. It was a real feast to look at. And to smell it too. It somehow spoke of life and the little joys in life, mixed with a hint of oil and smoke of the factories in the outskirts.

In a little roomier spot, some people – mostly children – had gathered around a blonde boy with a very animated face who was making big gestures.  
_What’s that about?_  
Noctis stepped a little closer, just close enough to grasp what he was saying, yet with enough distance to not have the people shy away from him, as they normally would. The boy looked rather scrawny, but looking at his face Noctis thought, that he must have been around the same age as him. His purplish blue eyes were sparkling with life, as he was passionately telling a fairytale to the children surrounding him.  
_The tale of ice and fire, huh? Long time I didn’t hear that one._  
Noctis faintly remembered, that somebody had used to read the story out to him. A girl, or was it a woman? He couldn’t put his finger on it. His eyes noticed the flat cap at the young storyteller’s feet.  
_So, he’s doing this for a living? Tough choice. At least he looks kinda happy._  
With a slightly compassionate smile on his lips he stepped forward, passing the small crowd of children, who were looking up to him in astonishment and placed some of the coins he had been carrying with him into the cap. „Keep up the good stuff“, he told the boy with a gawky smile, before continuing his walk on the market. The young man looked into his cap with eyes sparkling in amazement. Then he waved his thin arms in big motions, calling out: „Thank you sir! Come and stop by again sir!“ Noctis turned around once more, grinning half heartedly and bringing up one hand to a greeting, before he dissolved into the colourful crowd like the black smoke into the air of the city.

 

On his way back to the quarter he was living, a little shop caught Noctis‘ attention. Apparently it was a bar, as the plate on the door declared. _What bar opens up during lunch time?_ he wondered, pulling out his silver pocket watch to check on the time. The clock-face said it to be 11:30.  
_No luck this time, huh. Gotta come back here sometime soon then._ The bar would only open up in 30 minutes and Noctis preferred not standing around until it did. The people around him might get suspicious after all. Yet a sweet delicious smell was rising up from the inside, bringing back some memories to Noctis‘ mind he couldn’t put his finger on. He tried to peek through the window of the entrance to maybe catch a glimpse of what it might be. It smelled like something familiar...

„Excuse me?“  
Lost in thoughts the sudden voice behind his back startled the black haired boy and he swirled around on his heels. Behind him stood a lanky and rather handsome man with sandy brown hair and a pair of fine glasses framing sharp jade coloured eyes. Those eyes were looking at him wonderingly. In his arms he held a big paper bag, probably filled with groceries. „Is something the matter? Can I help you?“ Noctis had to remind himself how to breathe, before he answered. „Er... sorry. No, I’m good. I just walked by and... thought that something smelled really good? So I came to see what it is but the bar here is closed and... yeah, that’s it? I guess I’ll just come back another time then.“ The man chuckled. „My apologies. This place is rather not frequented in the daytime, so I frankly did not expect any visitors so soon.“ Something about his choice of words was peculiar. What was it?

„Oh, so you—you’re the owner?“, Noctis asked just to deescalate the awkward situation he had brought himself into. Normally his father would jump right in, to spare him from any embarrassing conversations, but today he had come on his own. He had to deal with it now. „Indeed“, the man replied, shoving one hand into his pocket, summoning a set of keys to his hand with a tinkling sound. „I must say I am surprised to see a nobleman at my door. This occasion calls for an exception I suppose. If I may?“ He gently shoved the slightly stunned Noctis aside to unlock the door. He swiftly slid inside, put the paper bag on the counter and came back to the door, slowly swinging one arm into an inviting gesture. Slightly embarrassed Noctis looked to his right and left, bringing up one hand behind his neck again. „But er—you’re not open yet are you? And I really don’t want to trouble you. I’ll come back... later then. Yeah.“ The man’s lips curled into a wry smile. „But you are here now? As I just said, I might want to make an exception today. Please, young master it is a pleasure to welcome you in my humble accommodations.“ 

Still embarrassed Noctis shuffled into the room, the man closing the door behind him. „Take a seat wherever you like. I will be available in just a moment.“ Noctis sat down at a table with a big window, framed by short lavender curtains. „So, what is the source of this smell?“, he asked the man who was busying himself storing his groceries behind the counter. He replied without even glancing over, focussing on tidying the counter. „Ah. I set up some Ulwaat berries on the stove before leaving for the market this morning. I fully depleted my stock of jam last night, so I was preparing some replenishment. It is a crucial ingredient to my menu after all.“  
Suddenly something clicked in Noctis‘ mind. It was the Ulwaat berries that had made it clear. „You are from Tenebrae, am I right?“ The question slipped pass his lips before he could even think about it. The bartender‘s glasses flashed up in surprise. „Oh. Well, yes I am.“ Noctis‘ lips curled into a smile. „Good place.“ The bartender came over to his table, the vest he had been wearing changed for a scarlet coloured apron. With a slight bow he handed over the menu. „If it is the tenebraean taste you are after, I could recommend the pastry set. It actually uses the jam that is currently in the making.“ Noctis gently pushed the menu back into the man’s direction and nodded affirmatively. „Yeah. Sounds good to me. It’s what has caught my nose’s attention after all. I bet it’s good.“  
„I reckon the nose knows“, the bartender replied cunningly and with another short bow left for the preparations of his customer’s order. Noctis couldn’t help himself but make an amused sound.

 _I like this place. Maybe I manage to pass by regularly_ he thought, while propping up his chin on one hand and looking out of the big window.

_Might as well skip on some of the appointments some time from now on._

The smell of the berries intensified and mixed with buttery flavours.  
Yes. He’d like to stay here for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, so there you go! This is the complete character setting of the world that is costantly bubbling up in my mind (for now). Noctis is still a little emo-ish and Gladio is in need of a bit of depth, but I guess I'll be getting there one day.
> 
> I don't know if I can manage to come up with a decent plot, but I am working on it. I can't say how long it will take me, but I'm working on it. (This is my first time doing this... oh my, what did I get myself into |'D)
> 
> So, if you liked the idea just let me know, and maybe stop by again someday? ^^  
> And if you feel like writing anything in this AU, just go on, I won't hold you back |D
> 
> Just be sure to give proper credit for the base idea then, and tell me! I'd like to read your stuff x3
> 
> (Psst, you can find me on tumblr. Come and say hi ^^)


End file.
